Iron Man
by Grumbles
Summary: Nobody wants him. He just stares at the world, planning his vengeance that he will soon unfold. Based on the song by Black Sabbath.
1. Chapter 1

IRON MAN

Inspired by the song by Black Sabbath

Earth's upper atmosphere was an invisible battleground. The oblate spheroid's gravitational pull worked with and against that of the solar system's sun and its satellite as it had done so for eons. The result of this never-ending struggle of unseen forces was an orbital ballet of revolutions as the moon orbited its planet while the planet orbited its sun.

It was very rare that anything of any monumental significance was ever pulled into Earth's gravity; Theia, perhaps 4.4 billion years previously, or the Chicxulub event a mere 65.5 million years ago. Neither of those two events is even unanimously accepted in the scientific community, so it could be said that nothing ever came to Earth from outer space that had any sort of impact at all.

If one was to look at the planet from space, however, that opinion would most likely change. A wink of green light appeared somewhere above the planet. It did not fade, and began to move toward the blissfully ignorant planet. To an observer, the green glowing object would appear to be moving slow; almost too slow. If one was to travel alongside the light, he or she might have been surprised to find him or herself flying at hypersonic speeds.

Even more surprising to an onlooker would be the nature of the object that was hurtling through space on a collision course with Earth. It was not a spacecraft of any manufacture, or another kind of craft for that matter. It was a person; a man, to be accurate. The green light that could be faintly seen in space was an ethereal aura that emanated from his body.

As he entered Earth's upper atmosphere, the green glow grew brighter and his speed increased greatly. The man plummeted through the exosphere, the glow becoming brighter still and taking on a bluish tint. In the thermosphere, his green aura peeled away in an explosion of red flame. Traces of green could still be seen flickering from his body, which now tumbled through the sky. The green aura slowly took back its dominance once the man's now-unconscious body entered the mesosphere. It was much dimmer now; not much brighter than a nighttime star. The green light nearly dissipated completely as the man's weakened body plummeted through the stratosphere and, finally, the troposphere.

Smoking and still giving off a faint green glimmer, the man crashed into the soft, loamy soil of planet Earth. His figure dug into the earth, creating an impact trail as his momentum carried him along the ground for several yards. Too deep in the ground to continue moving, his body came to an abrupt halt, showering the area in front of him with a wave of dirt. The green light shimmered for a moment and died. Smoke wafted into the cool air of the summer night. Within moments, the world was back to normal. Sheltered by the dense forests surrounding him, the figure would be safe for the night. The morning would reveal the effects of the person's atmospheric descent and what the green substance did to his body when combined with the invisible forces of the magnetic field. The morning would also bring a search party consisting of curious citizens and eager scientists. Unknowing, they would find him lying in his crater in the same position he landed in. Unassuming, they would remove him from the impact site to study him. Unaware, they would set into motion a most drastic series of events.

Amity Park would be unbelieving . . . that Iron Man was here.


	2. Chapter 2

Tucker Foley sighed and massaged his forehead. Before him sat a mountain of papers containing data and research that had been done on the Iron Man. None of it seemed to point to anything conclusive. His computers; his beloved technology, was not much better off on unlocking the secrets the space man might have contained. In the three months that the Iron Man had been placed in his department's capable hands, not a single modicum of information had been learned about him. Dr. Foley was frustrated, to say the least.

An obnoxious buzzing sound wailed from his PA system. Jostling him from his tiring and fruitless work, the man lazily tapped a flashing red button. "Yes?" he asked, trying his best to conceal his annoyance.

"Dr. Foley, a Dr. Manson is here to see you," his secretary replied in a bored tone. "Shall I send her in?"

"Yeah, go ahead. Thank you, Star," Tucker let his finger slide off the button and the white noise coming from the speaker ceased.

At that moment, the double doors leading to his office burst open revealing the slender figure of his long time friend. Her jet black hair fell loosely around her shoulders and was accented by her stunning purple eyes. Her attire was professional, but as Tucker knew all too well, Samantha Manson hated conformity. Fearsome combat boots covered her feet and dared onlookers to provoke their wearer. Beneath her sterile white lab coat, Tucker could just see the collar of a black polo shirt which most likely sported the logo of some obscure Goth band that he had never heard of. Despite her eccentric behavior, she was well respected in her field of molecular biology; something Tucker knew very little and cared even less about.

"You look as lovely as ever," he noted nonchalantly. "New lipstick?"

"Always observant," Sam replied with a roll of her eyes, puckering her bright purple lips. "So anything amazing happen while I was on the road?"

It was Tucker's turn to roll his eyes. "Yeah, actually. Iron Man got up and walked around, and then we went for a few drinks and played some pool. Then he came back here and fell asleep after winning a triathlon."

Sam giggled. "So nothing?"

"_Nothing_ would be an understatement," Tucker cast an angry stare at the Iron Man before letting his expression fade to a disappointed one. "This is ridiculous. Three months later and we're no closer to finding out where he came from, how he got here – nothing – than we were when he was discovered."

Sam pouted and walked around behind Tucker, leaning over and wrapping her arms around his shoulders in a friendly embrace. "He's just like every other egg science can throw at us. Only he's a bit tougher to figure out how to crack open."

Tucker allowed a small grin to spread across his face. "I guess . . ." he turned to Sam, eyes full of hope. "Weren't your people working on a sample of the metal we sent you?"

"That's right," she began, walking around his desk and closer to the Iron Man. "I didn't want to hurt your pride by telling you, but _we_ actually made some progress."

Tucker's face lit up like a Christmas tree. "What did you find?"

"The alloy is unlike any other that we've ever seen," Sam ran her hand across the Iron Man's face. "It has properties similar to ectoplasm and human skin; it's organic in composition."

"So that isn't a space suit, that's his body?" Tucker asked eyes wide with wonder.

"At least everything from the neck down," Sam replied, looking into the solid black upside-down triangle that covered his eyes and nose. "Unless that's how his face is supposed to look."

Tucker rubbed his chin. "Well he is an alien. Maybe he's a cyborg or a techno-organic species."

"Didn't you hear me?" Sam huffed in annoyance. "I said the alloy has properties of human skin. Human. Not Martian, not Rodian, not Twi'lek, human."

"So the Iron Man is from Earth?" Tucker stood up and walked around his own desk, joining his friend in examining the immobile figure before them.

"That's right," Sam looked over his body, noticing with some degree of embarrassment that she was running her hand over his rippling abdominal section. It was cool to the touch.

"Stop that," he said feigning irritation.

"Why?"

"Well if Iron Man isn't as comatose as we think he is, you might reach the pole if you keep moving south."

Sam, striking with the speed of a ninja, slammed a fist into Tucker's arm. "That wasn't very professional," she growled.

"True," Tucker said while rubbing his arm, "but you're a fine one to talk."

Sam was about to retort when her hand ran over an indentation. Looking down, she saw that her fingers were dead center on what appeared to be a belt of some sort. Maybe Tucker wasn't as wrong as she would have liked to believe.

"See? What did I-"

Sam quickly dropped to her knees and pushed her sleek, rectangular lens glasses up the bridge of her nose as she examined his belt further.

"What the hell are you doing?" Tucker cried in bewilderment.

"Get me a piece of paper and a pencil," she ordered. "Now!"

Tucker was over to his desk in record time, grabbing a sheet from one of the useless reports on the subject at hand and a slightly chewed pencil before returning to Sam's side. She whisked the items from Tucker's hands and pressed the sheet up against his belt and lightly began to scribble on the paper.

"What are you-"

"Shh!" Sam interrupted as the patch of graphite grew wider. Finally, Sam stopped her tracing and held the image up to the ceiling lights.

"What is it?" Tucker asked.

"I don't know," Sam replied in a whisper.

Sam's dainty hands held the paper above them. The typing from the report on the other side obstructed their view, but the image was clear enough to both of them. Inside the patch of the pencil's trail was a perfect circle. Inside the circle was a hauntingly familiar shape.

Samantha Manson and Tucker Foley stared at the paper. The hourglass stared back at them.


	3. Chapter 3

Sam awoke with a start as the ringing of her cell phone jolted her from her dreams. She realized too late that, like every other morning, she was teetering on the edge of her mattress. The surprise wake up call was just enough of a shock to send the woman tumbling from her bed and onto the floor with a dull THUD.

"Ow," she moaned as she rubbed her thigh which had taken the brunt of the impact. Twisting her body around inside the cocoon of sheets that still covered her, Sam swiped her phone off her nightstand and flipped it open. "Hello?"

There was a pause on the other line. "You fell out of bed again, didn't you?"

"You know me too well," Sam replied as she struggled to climb back onto her bed. "Or at least you should. Why would you call me at," she looked at her digital alarm clock, "5:30 in the morning?"

"I was doing a bit of research," Tucker answered. "I have some good news and some bad news."

"Good news first," Sam pinched the bridge of her nose, expecting some horrible report on the condition of the Iron Man to come after.

"I found out what the symbol on his belt means."

"Are you serious?"

"I'm serious, but I could be wrong. There're some parts missing from the texts I've translated. Other than that, I'm pretty sure I know what it means."

Sam opened her mouth to ask what the hourglass on the Iron Man's belt meant, but remembered the bad news Tucker had yet to divulge. "What's the bad news?"

Tucker sighed from his end. "The bad news_ is_ the good news. Maybe you should get down to the lab; it'll be easier for me to explain."

* * *

Tucker stood before the Iron Man, staring into the hollow black visor that covered his face. Could he see, or was he blinded by his mask? Tucker expanded on that thought. Was he alive or dead? Any human entering into Earth's atmosphere from space without a shuttle to protect them would have burned to nothing before he or she could even hit the ground. The Iron Man made it all the way down and even left a crater around his two ton body.

What made him so different? Tucker sighed and looked down at the datapad in his hand that held all the information he had gathered about the hourglass symbol. If it was correct . . .

"Dr. Foley? Dr. Manson's here again. Shall I send her in?"

Tucker walked over to his desk and pressed the blinking red button on his intercom. "Yes, thank you, Star."

No sooner had his finger left the button did the double doors to his lab swing open. Dr. Manson briskly strode in. "What've you got?"

Tucker tossed her the datapad. Sam deftly swiped it out of the air and began scrolling through the information.

"The hourglass symbol is one we're not all too familiar with in the paranormal field," he began to explain. "We've only discovered the dimension responsible for most paranormal activity in the last five years. Using the Fenton Portal, we've learned a great deal about ectosapien culture and behavioral patterns, but there is still much we don't know."

"Such as?" Sam asked.

"Such as; why some of these creatures seem to exist at a higher level than others," Tucker replied. "The vast majority of the ectosapiens we've observed are similar to our own race in terms of sentience. There are others that are far more powerful, but it is unknown what their powers are used for."

"So how does the hourglass tie in with all that?"

"During an archaeological expedition in the paranormal dimension two years ago, an entire landmass the size of the entire Asian continent was discovered. There were no traces of life, but the hourglass symbol was found on every standing building. The rest was ruins. After consulting several ectosapien tribes about the symbol we ascertained that it was meant to be a warning."

"A warning for what?"

"An entire civilization was destroyed by a single entity; a single ectosapien with power readings that could easily top our known charts ravaged the landmass. We were told it was done within a month."

Sam looked up from the datapad, her eyes wide with trepidation. "So what does it mean if someone is wearing the symbol?"

"Nothing good, I'm sure," Tucker mused. "At this point, it's really impossible to tell."

"Then shouldn't you be making it your top priority to find out?"

Tucker forced a comforting grin onto his face. "The symbol doesn't represent a harbinger of death, Sam, it's a warning. Just because he's wearing it on his belt doesn't mean anything. Not yet, anyway."

"How can you say that?" Sam exclaimed, walking over to the Iron Man. "Even if he isn't going to kill us he might be trying to warn us about something that will!"

"Sam, you're a scientist. Think this through rationally," Tucker walked up next to Sam and placed a hand on her shoulder. "We know virtually nothing about him. We don't know how he got here, why he's here – hell, we don't even know if he's alive. How can you be afraid of impending doom or some such nonsense if we don't even know if there's a single thought within that head of his?"

Sam crossed her arms and visibly relaxed. "I'm sorry, I-"

"That's what I thought at first, too. I freaked out even worse than you did. I-" Tucker paused, allowing for a chuckle, "I was actually afraid to come in here this morning after I got that data."

"Tucker Foley, the paranormal expert, afraid?" Sam grinned. "I can't imagine."

Tucker frowned at his friend, but his expression softened at the woman's disarmingly beautiful smile. "For all we know, he could have been traveling through our dimension to get somewhere else in the paranormal dimension. They can do that, you know. The stronger ones, anyway."

Sam stared at the Iron Man, churning the load of information around in her mind. Tucker's point made perfect sense. As far as teleportation was concerned, it was theoretically easier to travel through another dimension to a destination than to journey there through one dimension. If that was the case, why should she even care? The Iron Man could have made an error during his jump and it landed him in his current situation. It was unfortunate that another civilization might fall under the might of an unstoppable foe and would only be remembered centuries later by the hourglass symbol etched into the ruins, but it wasn't her dimension that was in danger.

Looking at her longtime friend, Sam spoke, breaking the ominous silence. "I'm hungry," she declared. "Let's go get some breakfast."

"Sounds better than driveling on about our impending doom," Tucker said in agreement, grabbing his jacket and keys from his desk. "But you're buying."

Sam rolled her eyes and walked with Tucker, passing the Iron Man where he stood. The two exited the lab through the double doors, which Tucker locked behind them, before heading on their way.

In the lab the Iron Man stood in darkness. His immobility meant that nobody had to watch him to make sure he didn't escape. As an organic alloy of an unknown origin there was no price on his head by any organization, legal or otherwise. Security had been marginally increased if only to acknowledge the Iron Man was there at all. If anyone had been watching the Iron Man, he or she wouldn't have known whether or not he was alive. If he or she did know he was alive, he or she surely wouldn't have been able to tell if he was conscious. And even still, there was no way to tell if the Iron Man could perceive the senses.

But if one was looking at the Iron Man as Samantha and Tucker walked past him, the knowledge of his vital status would have been easily discernable. Two glowing red orbs flared behind the translucent black visor before fading away. The Iron Man was very much alive, very much conscious, and could very well make use of his five senses. The organic metal that was his skin contorted as his hands balled into fists.

To a parapsychologist like Jasmine Fenton, it would have been very clear that the Iron Man was very, _very _angry.


	4. Chapter 4

Tucker looked nervously from the large crowd of reporters that had gathered in his workplace's reception lobby to Sam, who smiled cheekily at him and waved.

"Why did I let you talk me into this?" he angrily demanded through clenched teeth as he feigned his own smile.

"The world has wanted to know about him since he got here," the woman replied as she looked over her perfectly manicured nails. Despite her apparent dislike of how the mainstream played up physical beauty over what was on the inside, Dr. Manson took great pride in her own physical beauty. "Besides, if I hadn't talked you into setting this up, you never would have done it."

"Exactly my point-"

"And your supervisor would have likely given the privilege of addressing the public, along with complete control over the Iron Man project, to someone else," Sam finished, not giving her African American friend the chance to cut her off. "Besides, it's not so bad."

"You've never talked to the associated press!"

"So?"

"And you don't have . . . _issues _with public speaking."

Sam gave a concerned look and was about to offer some comforting words, but another man stepped in between them. "If you two don't mind," Kwan, formally known as Lieutenant Governor Lee, said to them, "I'd like to get this show on the road."

"Sorry Kwan," Sam apologized. "Tucker's got stage fright."

"Is that so?" Kwan patted Tucker's shoulder. "Well just remember, your monthly salary is more than half of these clowns make in a year. Combined."

"You think that's going to make him feel better?" Sam accused.

"Actually," Tucker wore a relaxed smile on his face. "Yeah, it did."

"See? Now get out there," Kwan lightly shoved his old friend toward the podium. "I'll have the Iron Man brought out so they can get a good look at him."

Tucker loosened his tie as he made his way over to the makeshift stage. Grasping the sides of the wooden podium, Tucker cleared his throat confidently. The dull roar of the press had quieted to whispers and murmurs. Once Dr. Foley had signaled that he was ready to start, there was only silence.

"Good after noon, ladies and gentlemen. I am Dr. Tucker Foley, head of the Paranormal Research Department here at Axion Labs," Tucker sifted through his prepared notes. "Approximately three months ago, an unidentified object entered U.S. airspace from outside Earth's atmosphere. It crash landed in the woods on the outskirts of town and was subsequently transported to this facility. The incident was kept quiet from the general public as to not cause any unnecessary confusion, but after an extensive period of researching the object the heads of all departments involved with said research unanimously agreed that the object should not be kept from the rest of the world any longer."

Tucker looked to his side. Sam jerked a thumb over to his lab and raised her eyebrows, awaiting his order. Tucker nodded and Sam walked over to the double doors.

"It should be stated first and foremost that the object is not actually an object, per say. It is a life form."

As if on cue, several men wheeled the Iron Man through the double doors on a dolly. The crowd burst into excited conversation. Cameras flashed from everywhere in the room. Reporters from every news station Tucker knew of, and even more he didn't, shouted questions at him faster than he could comprehend them.

"Please, please, everyone, settle down," Tucker held his arms up. "I will be able to answer all your questions after I have finished."

The noise did quiet down, much faster now that the subject was not an unidentified flying object, but instead an alien being. Or so they thought.

"We call him Iron Man. The alloy that covers his body, however, is not iron. It is a previously unknown metal that we believe may only exist on his body. Density tests and other such examinations lead us to believe that it is virtually indestructible. The alloy is not a space suit of any sort." Tucker pressed a button on a small remote in his hand. A projector screen activated and shot X-ray images of Iron Man onto the screen.

"The alloy makes up his outer layer of skin. Tests performed by Dr. Samantha Manson and her team on this alloy revealed ectoplasmic properties, not unlike the ectoplasm found in the paranormal dimension discovered by the Fentons. The tests also revealed that the alloy has some properties of human skin, which leads up to believe that the Iron Man is not extraterrestrial in origin."

More questions exploded from the press. "He's human?" "He's an ectosapien?" "What was he doing up in space?"

Tucker decided to answer some of the questions. "We have ascertained that he is both human and ectosapien in nature and composition, as you can tell by looking at him. It is unknown why he was up in space, but it most likely had nothing to do with our own realm of existence. He could have simply been passing through."

"The hourglass symbol on his belt? What is that for?"

Tucker looked from the reporter to the Iron Man. How could he have seen the hourglass on his belt from his seat near the back of the room? But as Tucker looked, he could see it clearly.

"Ah, well, my own field of expertise came into play here. The hourglass was used in the paranormal dimension centuries ago to warn of an impending disaster of some-"

The press exploded into queries yet again, this time sounding much more urgent and frightened.

"Everyone, everyone! Settle down! This is no need for alarm! You haven't even let me finish!"

That seemed to quiet the crowd, but not as effectively as before.

"The symbol hasn't been seen, used, even heard of in over a thousand years in the paranormal dimension. Now while it would be shocking to see the herald of destruction flying through space, it is important to consider the other, more rational, possibilities. There are humans that worship the occult here on Earth; praying to false gods and superstition. Some of this pagan worship, as it were, has even made it into the popular culture of today's world. Why would that be any different with the paranormal dimension?"

Tucker felt that his nervousness was slowly being replaced by the need to calm the increasingly nervous people. He didn't notice the Iron Man's face contort in rage. How could he, behind that eerily opaque visor?

"Contact with ectosapiens has been a one way street so far. Human kind was the first to make contact, the first to establish relations with the more civilized tribes, the first to befriend them. In return, we have gathered possibilities of new energy sources, more efficient farming methods, and some new technology. The ectosapiens didn't go out of their way to break though to our dimension to make contact with us, so it doesn't make much sense that their first means of communication from their end would be to send the Iron Man to us."

The fear that had gripped the audience had been effectively dispelled. Tucker grinned when the questions fielded at him became much more confident, inquisitive, and intellectual. As he answered each one, his own confidence grew.

"So if the Iron Man is ectosapien, why not send him back to the paranormal dimension? If his warning, if it is even a warning, isn't for us, why should we keep him here any longer?"

"That is a good point, but the hourglass symbol is not welcome with open arms in the paranormal dimension. Returning him there could have unforeseen repercussions; ones I'm willing to bet the Human/Ectosapien Relations Department wouldn't be too keen on dealing with. For now, we'll keep him here until we can negotiate a secure and neutral return of the Iron Man back to his own dimension. He isn't exactly bothering anyone by standing there, after all."

* * *

"You did great!" Sam exclaimed after the press conference had ended.

Tucker smiled weakly. "Think so?"

"Of course I do! So well, in fact, that I think you deserve to treat me to dinner and a movie."

"Gee, really? What did I do to deserve such an . . . honor?"

Sam cocked an eyebrow at her friend's sarcasm. "Well you averted a reenactment of Orson Welles' _War of the Worlds_ catastrophe, you managed to not faint in front of millions of people, and you gave me credit for my work."

"When have I ever not given you credit for your work?"

"When have you ever needed to?"

Tucker frowned. "Dinner and a movie?"

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, its just dinner is so expensive anymore and movies," Tucker gave a heavy sigh. "Don't even get me started on movies."

"Well then how does popcorn and pirated in-theatres-now DVDs at my place sound?" Sam offered.

"Like God sent down a little piece of heaven just for me," Tucker replied, gathering his things and heading for the doors.

"Wait!" Sam called out.

"What?" Tucker turned around. Sam was looking at the Iron Man. "Haven't you done enough ogling for one life time?"

"Come on," she said seriously. "You noticed it too. The hourglass on his belt, its more visible now."

Tucker walked over to the Iron Man, studying his unmoving body. "Come to think of it," he began, "his body looks a lot more defined."

"Now who's the one doing the ogling?"

"Look," Tucker pointed to the Iron Man's torso. "You can definitely see his musculature much more clearly than we could before."

"We found the hourglass symbol, what, two days ago?"

"Sounds about right," Tucker walked around the specimen, noticing for the first time that the Iron Man was, for lack of a better term, ripped. There were body builders Tucker knew that didn't even come close to this being.

"And now we can see every line on his body," Sam ran a hand down the side of the Iron Man's mask. "Do you think its wearing off?"

"The alloy?"

"Yeah. Do you think it could be?"

"Possibly," Tucker stared at the shiny black visor, hoping for an answer. "It looks more like its taking form, like its molding itself around his body."

Sam took several steps back, looking over the Iron Man. "So what does that mean?"

"I don't know," Tucker looked at the floor. "Whatever it means, we can find out tomorrow. It's not like he's going anywhere at the moment."

Sam giggled and allowed Tucker to escort her out of his office. Giving one last hopeful look at the Iron Man, Tucker sighed when there was no reaction and shut the lights off before locking the doors behind him.

* * *

Alone, finally, the Iron Man stretched his arms ever so slightly. He knew his mobility was still greatly limited by his suit. Originally made of a fabric similar to a spandex jumpsuit, the drastic temperature changes combined with Earth's magnetic field and his ectoplasmic barrier had solidified the fibers and caused them to expand. His suit was permanently bonded to this alloy, but when the fibers returned to normal size, he would be able to move freely again.

His three month stay on Earth had been like living in limbo; able to perceive the world around him, but unable to act. He had wanted so desperately to tell the humans why he came to Earth, but their science and their logic had yielded an explanation opposite of his message, his warning. He had hoped his symbol would have been enough of an indication. The woman, Samantha, had been right to be afraid, so had all the strangers at the press conference.

But the man, Tucker, had convinced them otherwise. He swayed their opinion as to avoid discomfort and fear. He even went so far as to assure them that he would be returned to his own dimension! The man presumed to speak for him in such a way? Unacceptable.

So nobody wanted him? Once it had been decided that all he could do was stare at the world from behind a one-way visor, the humans already wanted him gone. Those imperious fools, those ungrateful swine, those disgusting creatures, terrified of anything that might upset the monotony of their vain existence.

Fine. He knew there was still too much about him the humans did not yet know, but so eagerly yearned for. He would not be shipped back to his own dimension like a package so soon, so there was plenty of time; time to think, time to ponder, time to plan. This egotistical race of vermin called humanity needed to be taught a lesson.

Grinning at the way his moniker echoed around in his head, Iron Man knew he was the one who had to teach it.


	5. Chapter 5

The first thing Sam noticed when she woke up was the music from the DVD menu screen blaring from her surround sound speakers. She knew she didn't have a DVD player in her room, and confirmed her suspicions upon opening her violet eyes, taking in the view of her den. Slowly sitting up (and thanking whatever benevolent deity was responsible for her not falling on the floor), Sam's memories of the night before slowly came to her conscious mind. Tucker had come over; they had talked for hours about the Iron Man and the paranormal dimension while watching horror movies. She had fallen asleep while resting her head on his shoulder . . .

But Tucker was nowhere to be seen. She was about to go search for him when she heard the sound of footsteps. Turning to the source of the noise, she grinned at the sight of her longtime friend struggling with his tie as he entered the room.

"Morning early bird," she said groggily. "Sleep well?"

"After I slithered out from underneath you, yeah, I did," Tucker replied, frowning as he undid the mess of a knot his tie had become. "You never told me how comfortable the guest bed was," he was now working on the tie for what Sam guessed could have been the tenth time.

"You never asked."

"Touché," Tucker sighed and unraveled the tangle of fabric that threatened to choke him.

Sam got up off the couch and ambled over to Tucker. She grabbed the two ends of his tie and began to tie it for him. "So, if you don't mind my asking, why are you all dressed up? Isn't it Saturday?"

"I don't mind at all. This is your house," Tucker ran a comb through his hair while Sam gracefully completed fixing his tie. "Lancer called at about three. He wanted me to come in, said it was urgent."

Sam seemed to notice for the first time that it was still dark outside. "What time is it now?"

"Three thirty five," Tucker read from Sam's DVD player's digital clock. "I had just enough time for a quick shower, too."

Sam slid the knot on Tucker's tie up to his neck, tightening it almost too much. "You used the guest bathroom, right?"

"Well he said _urgent_. I wasn't about to waste time sneaking into your room and using your shower," Tucker affirmed, taking hold of Sam's hands and sliding the knot down to a comfortable position away from his Adam's apple.

"How urgent is _urgent_?"

"On a scale of one to urgent? Considering that Lancer went through the hassle of bugging Mikey to get my cell number, I'd say it's pretty urgent."

Sam took a step back from Tucker and looked around the room. "I guess you better go, then. Looks like I've got some cleaning to do."

"Ix-nay. Boss man wants us both down there."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Both of us?"

Tucker gestured to Sam's lab coat, a pair of black jeans, and a purple t-shirt. "I'll be in the car."

* * *

When Tucker pulled up to Axion Labs, he hadn't expected the sight that greeted him. The entire building had been cordoned off by the infamous yellow DO NOT CROSS police tape. In addition to local and state police, there was a sizable contingent of the National Guard and a number of SWAT trucks. Tucker's jaw almost dropped when he thought he saw a tank moving off in the distance.

"Has Lancer ever used the word _urgent_ before?" Sam asked as the two stepped out of Tucker's pearlescent blue Saleen Mustang.

"Once, but that was when his kid accidentally set his garage on fire," Tucker explained. "I can't imagine that it happened here too."

Sam rolled her eyes and briskly walked toward the police line with Tucker in tow. News choppers and vans were already swarming around the building like ants to a picnic, forcing the pair to squeeze and occasionally shove their way to the front of the line.

"This is ridiculous," Tucker mumbled so that only Sam could hear. "We're never gonna get in!"

Sam looked from her friend's nervous expression to the soldiers armed with a wide assortment of weapons. "We'll be fine; we just have to find-"

"Sam? Tucker?"

"-someone we know," Sam finished with a smile as Dash Baxter, decked down in full body armor, jogged over to them.

"Dr. Lancer is this way," he said, lifting up a section of the police tape. The two slid underneath and followed the large military man to a tent.

"Dash Baxter?" Tucker asked as he did his best to keep pace with his old college buddy. "You're in the Guard?"

"Army," he corrected. "And from here on out, you may address me as General Baxter," he pointed to the four stars that adorned his shoulder. "Or just General."

"So, _General_," Sam said, experimenting with the word, "what happened here?"

"I'm just in charge of the mobilization that Masters deemed necessary," Dash replied. "You'll have to talk to Miss Sanchez if you want details."

Sam furrowed her brow. "Maybe I'll let Tucker do the talking then."

Dash laughed, and the trio continued the rest of the way in silence. Inside the tent, Dr. Edward Lancer was conversing with several other scientists and looking over a great deal of information that was displayed on several computers.

"It always amazes me how you manage to make it look like you've been here for weeks after setting up camp in only a few hours," Tucker stated as he looked at the mess of wires, paper, and other miscellaneous office supplies that littered the area.

Dr. Lancer looked up from the screen and frowned. "Dr. Foley, Dr. Manson," he greeted curtly. "It always amazes me how, even fifteen years out of high school, you still manage to show up late."

"We got caught in traffic," Tucker offered humorously. "What's going on?"

"Night shift janitors were found dead with ectoplasmic burns all over their bodies," Detective Paulina Sanchez answered, spinning around to face them in her swivel chair. "We sent a team in to investigate. Only one man came out, rambling about the Iron Man before succumbing to similar injuries. That makes ten dead in less than an hour."

Tucker nervously loosened his tie further. "Do we have security footage?"

"Just this," the Latina woman clicked her mouse on a button on her computer. The screen began to play an image of inside Tucker's lab. The Iron Man, after standing still for several minutes into the tape, took three clumsy steps forward and disappeared. "After that, all the security cameras went down, starting with that one."

Tucker looked from the screen to Axion Labs, which could be seen through the open tent, and sighed. "What happens now?"

"What happens now," Dash repeated, "is we go in."

"No way," Sam said, slamming her hands down on the table in the center of the tent. "That's suicide, there's no way I'm letting you go in there to die."

"Well then it's a good thing we're going with them," Paulina said as she stood up. "Us four, Dr. Lancer and-"

"Me makes six, I think," Kwan chimed in from the open flaps of the tent. The Lieutenant Governor counted his fingers as he walked closer to the table. "Six, that's right," he whispered to himself. He noticed all the peculiar stares from the others in the room and shrugged. "It'll look good when I run for president against Vlad when the next election comes around."

"We can only hope he gets run out of office before then," Lancer commented wryly. "Or maybe we should just send him in to talk to the Iron Man. That would at least solve one of our problems."

Lancer noticed the serious glare Dash was giving him and grinned sarcastically. "All due respect, of course."

"Right," Dash muttered. "Ok people; let's get this show on the road." Dash marched out of the tent; the others scurrying to follow behind him. "We had state of the art ectoplasmic weaponry brought in from the Dalv Corporation about thirty minutes after this situation began. We'll be bringing prototype sonic tazers only. His last encounter with guns didn't go over so well, and the tazers are only to be used in self defense."

"Why didn't you just get the weapons in the building?" Sam asked irritably. "They're just as good."

"Good thinking," Paulina retorted. "Why don't you go in and get them for us? I'm sure the Iron Man won't mind."

Sam clenched her hands into fists, but remained silent.

"More to the point, the Dalv Corporation is our current supplier of ectolpasmic based weaponry," Dash explained. "Even though the technology is still relatively new, we have enough to besiege a country the size of Benmark for a month."

"Don't you mean Denmark?" Lancer offered.

"No, I don't." The rest of the group remained silent. After what seemed like a ridiculously long trek, they came to a stop outside the Axion Labs building. Several Special Forces operatives were standing guard outside. "I really don't think I should have to say this, but I can stress enough how important it is to stay together once we're inside."

The operatives outside each grabbed a handle on the door and yanked them open. The six humans shuffled into the building and the doors were sealed behind them.

"It's really dark in here," Paulina commented once the team was plunged into total darkness.

"They cut the power to the building to prevent the Iron Man from accessing the computer database," Dash explained as he turned on his flashlight. "As far as light is concerned," Dash handed a second flashlight to Tucker. "You get the idea."

"Where to first?" Tucker asked, finally finding his voice.

"Second floor. That's where the first team made contact with the Iron Man."

"Why on Earth would we go there?" Paulina almost shouted.

"_Death of a Salesman_, keep your voice down!" Lancer hissed. "We aren't trying to kill him; we want to talk to him!"

"Right," Kwan agreed, understanding the man's point. "If he's still as slow as he was in the video, then he couldn't have gotten very far."

"Exactly," Lancer said. "Now let's get moving. The longer we stay here, the longer it's going to take to find him."

* * *

The team made their way to the staircase, unaware of the two glowing red eyes behind them. The Iron Man stretched, testing the flexibility of his suit. It was still stiff, but much less so than it had been earlier in the morning. He hadn't wanted to kill those janitors, the woman behind the desk, or the officers that had come in after them. But what choice did he have?

He knelt down to examine the body of the blonde woman he had silenced. A rectangular tag was fastened to her bright blue top and read "Star". Frowning behind his visor, the Iron Man slid her lifeless eyes shut. Her death had been quick and painless; a simple wave of his intangible, energy-charged hand through her skull had shut down her brain which in turn shut down all other bodily functions. She hadn't felt a thing. The others weren't so lucky.

The contemptuous human, Tucker Foley, was here. To hell with what he had to say, he had convinced the world that the Iron Man was nothing more valuable that a space rock. With his anger welling up inside him, he rose through the ceiling and up to the second floor. He would be waiting for them when they arrived.


	6. Chapter 6

All the horribly grotesque films Tucker had seen in his life did a horribly inadequate job of preparing him for the real thing. Charred, smoking bodies littered the hallway. Blood had effectively slathered the floor in its crimson color. The stench of burnt flesh, ectoplasm, and copper all mixed together made Tucker gag. He had seen his fair share of disgusting sights, and had learned to control his gag reflex. Some, like Paulina, hadn't been fortunate enough to have done so. Tucker looked over and saw her heaving her dinner into a potted plant. He would have grinned had the situation not been so grave.

"This is . . ." Lancer paused to carefully step over the felled corpse of one of the soldiers. "I can't even begin to imagine what would provoke him to commit such atrocities."

"The hourglass," Sam whispered.

Tucker glanced over at the woman nervously. "What about it?"

"Was I right?" the team had stopped to give her their full attention. "Was he really headed here, for Earth instead of somewhere else in the paranormal dimension?"

"That would seem to be the case," Lancer said quietly as he lifted his boot up. Stuck to the bottom was what appeared to be an intestine dripping with blood. "_Revelations_," he whispered in astonishment at the carnage.

"Now hold up," Kwan spoke. "You said he was harmless; that he just got stuck here on Earth by accident," the Asian American pointed an accusatory finger at Tucker.

"I said that to avoid a widespread panic," Tucker snapped in a louder voice. "The truth of the matter was that we don't know what the symbol stood for. We still don't know, for God's sake! I wasn't ready to go public with him; Sam's the one who-"

"_Don't _try to pin the blame on me," Sam hissed. "Don't you even _dare_!"

"Yes, Dr. Foley, you deserve all the credit for the present set of circumstances. Don't try to be so humble."

The icy, emotionless voice sent shivers up everyone's spines. All of them spun around in time to see the Iron Man materialize out of thin air in front of them.

"Did you think it was wise to lie about me?" he took a step closer. "Did you act out of self preservation, I wonder?" Another step. "Or perhaps out of a desire for fame and glory?" Yet another step. "Was it ignorance?" His metal boots slammed into the floor, cracking the tile. "Or did you really,"** THUD**, "truly," **THUD**, "wish to deceive them?" **THUD**. **THUD**.

Tucker, standing at the front of the six member team, looked up into the Iron Man's visor. He had never fully been able to appreciate all seven feet of the man's height before. Curious, considering all the months the Iron Man had spent unmoving in his lab.

"How was I supposed to know what that symbol stood for?" Tucker was surprised by the voice that had come from his mouth. It was confident and brave; the polar opposite of how he felt. "We had our suspicions, sure, but we never even fathomed that you were trying to come here."

"You never _fathomed_ it?" the Iron Man repeated, his glowing red eyes brightening in anger. "The lovely Dr. Manson hit the proverbial nail on the head," he gestured toward the trembling scientist who was hiding behind Dash.

"If we were so wrong, why didn't you tell us?" Sam asked, her shaky voice finding foundation. "This could have been easily averted."

"This?" the Iron Man spread his arms to his sides, acknowledging the brutal and bloody scene beneath his boots. "This was inevitable. The men with the mops? Their deaths were inevitable. The woman behind the desk? Her death was inevitable. All of your deaths are inevitable."

Tucker's eyes widened in horror. "Star?" he choked out.

Iron Man's malicious glare focused on him once again. "Your secretary," he confirmed. "It saddens me that you have accelerated the degradation of the situation. She and all the others never would have gotten involved if it wasn't for you."

Tucker now found himself growing angry. "The press conference? Is that what this is about? You've murdered innocent people because I prevented an intelligence failure of epic proportions?!"

"You prevented the truth from being communicated to the world," the Iron Man countered with equal vigor.

"We can fix what damage has been done if you would just tell us what the truth is instead of slaughtering everyone in sight!"

The Iron Man chuckled; the kind of chuckle that made one's blood run cold. "You think trying to correct your lies would reverse the damage?"

"Yes!"

The Iron Man growled with rage and swatted Tucker into the wall. The drywall cracked from the impact and his glasses fell from his nose.

"Imbecile," the ectosapien snarled. "You convinced the world that I was no more of a threat than a _rock_! How would they respond if you retracted that statement by telling them I came to warn them about the apocalypse?"

"Is that why you're here?" Lancer asked calmly. The aging man jumped slightly when the Iron Man's head snapped to the side to face him. "You are a herald?"

"My mission has failed because of the pride of your species," he answered solemnly. "Yes, I was a herald. I hail from the future; a time where this planet and countless others have been ravaged by the Great Destroyer. My mission was to warn your kind, to prepare you for the coming devastation. You have not helped me in my mission, Dr. Foley. I see now that it was a mistake to even try."

The Iron Man's hands began to glow the same shade of red as his eyes. That was enough of a signal for Dash, who aimed his sonic tazer at the malevolent biped. A blast of controlled sonic waves pounded into the shining silver alloy that encased his body and sent him flying back into the wall. For the second time during his stay on Earth, the Iron Man was unable to move.

* * *

Groaning beneath his mask, the Iron Man summoned his suit's onboard AI program.

"Technus," he grimaced at the pain that swelled in his chest. "What kind of energy was that?"

"One moment," the nasally, disembodied voice replied. "It appears to have been a sonic weapon of some kind."

"Can you realign my suit's composition to defend against sonic emissions?"

"Affirmative. It seems the alloy that fused to your suit also fused to your skin and integrated it into my onboard systems," Technus noted with as much curiosity as an Artificial Intelligence program could muster. "I can use the chemical composition of your human and ectoplasmic nature along with the density of the fabric of your suit to shield against any further sonic attacks."

"Thanks."

"There is no need to thank me, Daniel," Technus replied. "My survival depends upon your own."

"Of course," he said with a grin. "But from now on, I'd prefer if you addressed me as Iron Man. Daniel was the man sent to save this species. Iron Man is the one who will wipe its smug sense of self worth from the face of existence."

"As you wish, _Iron Man_," Technus noted sarcastically. "Your suit has been successfully adjusted to deflect sonic attacks. You should be combat ready in two minutes."

"Excellent."

"I think the records should show that I view this genocide as illogical," Technus added. "Your mission was to save this species, not to be their undoing."

"I am painfully aware of what my mission was, old friend," Iron Man said through clenched teeth. "But can you honestly tell me that this race would become anything but a nuisance to our dimension?"

There was a pause. "Humanity has proved to be adept at doing the right thing after being shown what the right thing is. Granted, they have not attained the level of sentience your kind has, but they are capable . . . if given the chance."

"We have both monitored the reactions to our arrival and to our unveiling, suffice to say they could have been much more positive," Iron Man retorted. "Are they really worthy of being given that chance?"

"That is not my decision to make," Technus said quietly. "The course of action you are about to take places you in the position of the Great Destroyer with a ninety nine point five three percent of accuracy."

Iron Man sat in stunned silence. "Then that means . . ." he sifted through the explosion of thoughts that came to his mind. "Clockwork," he murmured. "He had to have known!"

"That does not require calculation to prove its correctness." More silence passed between the man and the machine. "Your suit has regained full functionality," then, with a tone of disapproval, "I believe you have a . . . _job_ to do."

* * *

The group of six had been talking about many things in the short amount of time the Iron Man had sat slumped against the wall. They hadn't noticed him float off the ground and charge his hands with energy until it was too late. The hair and skin on Dash's head turned to vapor a split second before the beam's full effect kicked in and popped his cranium like a ripe melon, spewing blood and grey matter over the remaining five.

Paulina screamed in terror as the others began to flee. The Latina's wailing was silenced as the Iron Man lifted her up by her face and violently slammed her head into the ground, crushing it. The last four disappeared around a corner. The Iron Man sneered and gave chase.

* * *

Tucker never knew fear beyond his ophidiophobia. The creature chasing them was not a serpent, it was evil made flesh. As he opened the door to the stairwell, a gust of cold air nearly knocked him off his feet. Looking into the darkness, the Iron Man's two red eyes popped into being and the cold was pushed into the hallway. Tucker shivered as he followed the group to yet another stair case. This one was unoccupied. Hurrying as fast as they could through the darkness, the four managed to reach the top floor.

"We have . . . to get to . . . the roof," Dr. Lancer said between ragged breaths. His age was taking its toll on him. "We can . . . signal for help."

"If he follows us out, then the Earth is doomed," Sam said as the three men rushed off to the center of the fifth level. Upon hearing her words, they stopped dead in their tracks. "This building is coated in an anti-ecto resin," Sam continued. "His energy blasts can't break through. He'd either have to punch his way out or go through a door."

"You three get to the roof, then," Lancer said, coughing into his sleeve. "I'll buy you some time."

"No shot," Kwan snapped. "We're not leaving you to get mauled by that thing."

Lancer grinned at his former pupils. "I've didn't know what to expect when you came into my life as young adults," he began, pulling a cigar from his coat pocket. A flicker of flame from his lighter illuminated his time-wearied face for but a moment before being extinguished. A small circle of red embers glowed as brightly as the Iron Man's eyes as he drew in the peach flavored smoke before letting it gently waft from his mouth.

"I was able to watch you grow into the fine men and women you've become today. It's been a privilege to be a part of shaping your lives, and I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world." He paused to take another puff of his cigar.

Sam let the tears that had built up in her eyes flow freely down her cheeks as she wrapped her arms around her old teacher. She felt like she was saying goodbye to a dear friend; one she would never see again.

_Why am I crying?_ She though to herself.

_Because_, the cold, rational side of her brain answered for her, _this isn't a movie. He really is going to die. A person who's had a hand in changing your life and whose helped you and so many others through so much is going to die._

"Its ok, Samantha," Dr. Lancer said comfortingly. "Everything's going to be ok."

Sam let out another sob. _No it won't_, she thought bitterly to herself.

Tucker and Kwan had to pull her away. Her sobbing died down to muffled whimpers by the time the trio made it to the final set of stairs. The door to the roof, and to their salvation, was in sight.

* * *

Lancer heard the Iron Man before he saw his signature red eyes. The **THUD** of his metal boots connecting with the concrete echoed throughout the entire floor like lead pipes smacking together. Each deliberately slow step rattled the building, but did not fill Lancer full of dread. After what seemed like an eternity, Lancer found himself looking up to meet the Iron Man's gaze.

"I have but one final request," he said, letting his last cigar slip from his fingers.

The Iron Man remained silent.

"I have always wanted to go out . . . peacefully. I'm not much for violence myself. So, if you must kill me," Lancer stood up straighter, "please, make it quick."

Iron Man turned his hand intangible and charged it with energy. A gentle swipe through the bald man's cranium was all it took to effectively shut down his body. Life having left him, Lancer's cadaver slumped and fell into the Iron Man's waiting arms. He rested him on the floor and moved to slide his eyes shut.

The ectosapien noticed that, unlike the other humans, this man's expression was peaceful. Humans had no way of knowing what awaited them after death. That being the case, any belief placed in a higher being or any form of an afterlife was, to them, based solely on faith alone. This man was not petrified of passing on. He had displayed courage beyond what the Iron Man thought most humans were capable of. A shame they couldn't all be like him.

Standing up to his full height, the Iron Man zeroed in on Tucker Foley's vital signs and headed for his location. Opting for speed rather than intimidation, he walked at a much faster pace. Still too slow to catch up to the last three humans, but he didn't need to catch up to them. They weren't going anywhere anyway.

* * *

Tucker, Kwan, and Sam burst through the door onto the roof. The sky was illuminated by spotlights shining up from below and shining down from the sky as helicopters circled above. Kwan walked toward the edge of the building, waving his arms frantically in an attempt to get attention. Sam took refuge in Tucker's embrace.

Her returning sense of security was shattered as an explosion made the cement roof of the building rise up as if a meteor slammed into the underside of it. Tucker and Sam were thrown back several feet and slammed into the door leading back into the building. Kwan was thrown to the opposite edge of the building. With nothing to stop his acceleration, he tumbled over the side, but managed to grab onto the edge of the structure.

The roof that had been sinking back down suddenly rose again with another explosion. The dome created by this one was enough to dislodge Kwan's grip on the surface. Sam and Tucker lost sight of him as he plummeted to his death.

"KWAN!" Sam shrieked. "_NO!_"

Tucker held Sam tightly as she struggled to free herself. "Sam!" he shouted as the third explosion sent the majority of the roof into the sky. "He's dead, Sam! They're all dead! There's nothing we can do!" he found his own voice was leaving him. Tears found their way out of his eyes.

The two sat in silence, trembling in terror as the Iron Man ascended through the allegedly anti-ecto building's remains and into the sky. Smoke billowed from the infrastructure as most of it had been vaporized while the ectosapien forced his way out.

"Tucker," Sam whispered as the Iron Man lifted his hands above his head. "I want you to know something." The Iron Man charged his hands with a gratuitous amount of raw energy.

"What?" he whispered back as the man swung his arms down, releasing the fireball of death and destruction down upon the building and everyone around it.

"I love you."

And then there was nothing.

* * *

_Has he lost his mind?  
Can he see or is he blind?  
Can he walk at all?  
Or if he moves will he fall?_

_Is he alive or dead?  
Has he thoughts within his head?  
We'll just pass him there  
Why should we even care?_

_He was turned to steel  
In the great magnetic field  
When he traveled time  
For the future of mankind._

_Nobody wants him  
He just stares at the world  
Planning his vengeance  
That he will soon unfold._

_Now the time is here  
For Iron Man to spread fear!  
Vengeance from the grave  
Kills the people he once saved._

_Nobody wants him  
They just turn their heads  
Nobody helps him  
Now he has his revenge._

_Heavy boots of lead  
Fills his victims full of dread  
Running as fast as they can  
Iron Man lives again! _

Iron Man song: Black Sabbath  
Danny Phantom and all affiliated characters: Butch Hartman


End file.
